Carry On My Wayward Daughter
by Cheyla
Summary: It all started when Dean received a phone call about his daughter skipping school and coming home with a bruise on her face.
1. Chapter 1

**So this originally started out as a birthday fic for my roommate but got turned into a multi-chapter story by the plot bunnies. Hope you enjoy it!. Happy birthday Kristen!**

"Mr. Winchester, this is Arcadia High School calling regarding your daughter."

Immediately Dean Winchester regretted picking up the phone. He set the wrench in his hand down on the nearest empty surface in the garage before wiping his forehead, subsequently smearing oil across his face.

"What happened?" he asked. "Has Bridget done something?"

"She hasn't shown up for her first two classes. We were wondering if she was sick and had forgotten to call in."

A small frown crossed Dean's face. His daughter had skipped her first two classes? He had seen her leaving the house to go to school…

"Yes, she's sick. I had a busy morning and it slipped my mind," he lied smoothly. "She'll be back tomorrow hopefully."

"Thank you for your time," the woman on the other end of the phone said. "We'll mark her absence down."

Dean clicked the end button on his cellphone without saying goodbye and promptly dialed in the number for his daughter's cellphone. He was frowning as he listened to the phone ring and go to voicemail.

"As soon as you get home, Bridget, we're going to have a talk about you skipping school," he said sharply. "There's no excuse. You know your Uncle Sam will get on my case if you turn this into a habit. And if I find out a boy is behind this, I'll pull out my shotgun and believe me, you really don't want that."

Dean knew he was probably being harsher than he should be, considering this was the first time that his sixteen-year-old daughter, Bridget Winchester, had skipped classes—as far as he knew. However, he was well aware that there were still demons in the world that would go after him and his brother without a second thought. He wanted her to be safe. That was why he had stopped hunting in the first place.

After the phone call, the day passed slowly for Dean. The retired hunter couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. While it gave him a chance to cool down and wonder about Bridget's reasons for skipping school, it also allowed time for his imagination to run wild. What if Bridget hadn't skipped? What if she had gotten into trouble on her way to school?

Dean's hunter instincts were quiet but that didn't prevent him from taking an early lunch break and tracing Bridget's path from their home to the high school. It also didn't stop him from calling Bridget every few hours in hopes that she would answer for once.

She didn't. By three-thirty, Dean didn't know to be worried out of his mind and to start searching for his daughter or to be furious that she had ignored him for the better part of the day.

Then Bridget's car rolled into the driveway and the hunter-turned-mechanic felt an overwhelming sense of relief.

Bridget Winchester groaned quietly as she pulled into the driveway of her and her father's tiny house. Her father was waiting on the porch, arms crossed and a disappointed look on his face.

Flipping down the sun visor, Bridget examined her face in the mirror. She could still feel the burn on the face from fifteen minutes earlier. The sixteen-year-old cringed as she spotted the apparent red mark. There was no way her father was going to miss that. Bridget tried to adjust her light brown hair to cover the mark but it was futile. The mark was too wide and her hair was too short.

Turning off the ignition, Bridget grabbed her backpack, which had sat untouched in the passenger seat all day. She plastered a smile on her face and got out of the small car. She wasn't even to the porch when her father began lecturing her.

"Skipping school, Bridget? Really?"

"I had a reason," Bridget said immediately. Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Let's hear it then. Otherwise you get to explain to your Uncle Sam when he comes over on Friday for dinner why you skipped."

Bridget hesitated and brushed her hair out of her face. She realized her mistake when Dean's face clouded with fury.

"Who did that to you?" Dean demanded. "What happened?"

"Umm…" Bridget wasn't sure how to respond. She looked around for an escape route but found none. There was no place to hide.

"What the hell happened, Bridget?" Dean demanded again. The teenage girl fidgeted nervously under her father's furious look. She tugged down her sleeves awkwardly to hide the bruises on her wrists from where she had been grabbed. Dean had already seen the red mark on her face from where she had been slapped. He didn't need to see the marks on her wrists as well. Bridget muttered something indiscernible under her breath, shuffling her feet.

"What was that?" Dean asked. Bridget took a deep breath and brought her eyes up to meet the retired hunter's. Dean was struck by how similar the color of her eyes were to his.

"I went to Planned Parenthood," Bridget said in a clear voice.


	2. Chapter 2

**Enjoy!**

Dean stared at his daughter, not sure if he had heard her right.

"Excuse me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "You went where?"

Bridget sighed and placed her hands over her stomach nervously.

"I went to Planned Parenthood," she repeated. "I took a pregnancy test a few days ago and it came up positive. I wanted to be absolutely positive, so I made an appointment."

"Are you saying that you're pregnant?" Dean looked visibly upset and a tiny bit surprised. Bridget nodded and tugged down her sleeves again.

Dean took a deep breath in an attempt to not demand how that had happened. He was perfectly aware of _how_ girls became pregnant. He just hadn't expected it to happen to _his_ daughter, especially when she was still in high school.

"And how is that related to your face?" he asked after a few seconds. "Did the nurse suddenly decide to beat you up? Because I really doubt that."

A small smile crossed Bridget's face at the blatant sarcasm. It quickly left, though, as she prepared to tell her father what had happened after she had left the Planned Parenthood center.

"I figured the father should know," she said. "He…didn't react well. Needless to say, we aren't dating anymore."

Dean scowled at the thought of a faceless little punk daring to strike his daughter.

"You're dating someone?" he asked. That was news to him. His daughter had never mentioned a boy before.

"Was," Bridget corrected. "Now can we go inside? I'm starving." She tried to pass her father to go into the house but Dean easily blocked her.

"Not yet. When did that happen? Why didn't I know about this?" he demanded. Bridget sighed and rolled her eyes.

"We had been dating for the last few months and of course I never told you," she snapped. "I didn't want you going after him with your shotgun, after all."

"The shotgun's the least of his worries right now," Dean grumbled. Bridget's eyes widened ever so slightly at the pure rage in his voice. "Where does this punk live?"

"Dad, no," she warned. "You can't shoot him."

"Who said anything about shooting him?" Dean asked. "I'm going to rip him apart, limb by limb. Then I'm going to stab him repeatedly and burn the remains so no one will ever find him."

Bridget's eyes widened even further and this time it was her who had to block her father from getting to the cars.

"Dad, no!" she said. "No killing!"

"He knocked you up!" Dean shouted. "Then he had the nerve to hit you! He's lucky I ain't sending him straight to hell!"

"I'll be fine," Bridget informed her father. "I'm better off without him, anyway. Women empowerment and all that shit."

Dean scowled at the sound of his daughter swearing but decided that swearing was the least of his concerns right now.

"He's not going to get away with this," he promised. "That child is not going to have a deadbeat dad!"

"I think it's better than having a _murdered _deadbeat dad and a grandfather in jail for murder," Bridget snapped. Dean couldn't meet her eyes, knowing that she had a point. He let out a heavy sigh.

"Get inside," he ordered. "We need to have a _long_ talk about this."

Bridget let out a silent groan.

"I'm not having an abortion," she announced as she walked into the house, Dean following behind her. "So you better get used to being called 'Grandpa'."

Dean stopped in his tracks and let out a curse under his breath. Shit, that was right. He was going to be a grandfather.

Suddenly the retired hunter felt a lot older.

Dinner was a quiet affair in the Winchester household. It usually was but that night there was an underlying tension between the father and daughter. Bridget could tell that Dean was upset with this turn of events but if he was upset, she was beyond upset. She was embarrassed that she had found herself in this situation, humiliated that she had ended up with a guy that was more concerned with his reputation than his baby, furious with herself for not being careful, and uncertain if she was doing the right thing.

And that was only the tip of the iceberg.

Bridget glanced down at her stomach and lightly traced her hands over it. In a few months, it would begin to swell.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Dean asked gruffly, noticing where his daughter's attention had wandered. Bridget nodded. "What are you going to do about school?"

"What about school?" Bridget asked, tilting her head slightly. Dean sighed.

"I mean," he began, "what will you do about school when the baby's born? You won't be able to bring it into the building."

Bridget shrugged.

"Then I'll drop out," she said simply. Dean's eyes narrowed.

"Good luck explaining that to your Uncle Sam," he said, beginning to clear the dishes. Bridget muttered a curse under her breath. That was one fight she wasn't sure she could win. Her uncle was adamant about education and doing well in school. Bridget couldn't care less and Dean was just impressed that his daughter had gotten into high school.

Bridget raised an eyebrow as her father grabbed the keys to the Impala.

"Where are you going?" she asked warily. She still wasn't convinced that her father wouldn't kill her now ex-boyfriend the first chance he got. Dean didn't know where the boy lived but that would stop him for only a few hours.

"I'm going to see if any of the bars need a new bartender," Dean said. "We'll have an extra mouth to feed soon and babies aren't exactly cheap. Need to get a second job."

"Oh," Bridget said quietly. "Well, I guess I'll see you later." Dean nodded curtly.

"Don't stay up too late," he said. "You're going to school tomorrow. No more skipping and no more disappearing without a trace."

Bridget gave a small nod. While Dean would never admit it, he had been worried, and she knew that.

"Bye," she called as the door swung shut.


	3. Chapter 3

After the events of that one day, the Winchester household began falling into a new routine. Bridget would go to school, come home, and procrastinate on homework and studying by playing video games or watching television. Dean would work from seven to five at the auto shop, go home and grab some dinner with his daughter before heading out at eight, where he would bartend until two or three in the morning. Then he would come home, grab the few hours of sleep his schedule allowed, and do it all over again.

Dean really didn't mind the new schedule, as it reminded him of his hunting days (with a lot less of the action) but Bridget felt horrible. Every day she saw the bags under her father's eyes, she was reminded of her situation and how much pressure it was putting on their tiny family.

Bridget had considered getting a job, but her father had talked her out of it. It made the teenager feel even worse. Her father was doing everything to make sure that she was taken care of and wouldn't be forced to work and she couldn't do anything to repay him. All she could do was make sure that there was a hot meal on the dinner table and that Dean was getting the chance to sleep.

Bridget jumped as the phone rang, startling her from her daydreaming. She had been staring out the window, completely ignoring the textbook in front of her. Heart beating wildly, the teenage girl picked up the phone as it rang a second time.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Bridget, is your father around?" Bridget instantly recognized the voice on the other end.

"Hey Uncle Sam," she said before answering the question. "He's sleeping right now."

"Already? It's seven o'clock." Sam sounded surprised. "Must be starting to get old."

Bridget grinned. "He's just sleeping before he has to go work at the bar," she informed her uncle. "I'll let him know that you called when he wakes up."

"Can you wake him up now?" Sam asked quietly. "I need to talk to him about a potential…business trip."

Bridget let out a silent sigh. Business trip. She knew what that meant. There was a hunt in the area that her father needed to take care of.

"Sure thing," she agreed and pushed herself away from the dinner table, where she had been attempting to do homework. Holding the phone against her shoulder, she wandered down the short hallway to where her father's room was located.

"Dad," she said knocking on the doorframe, feeling guilty as Dean jerked awake. "It's Uncle Sam."

Dean held out his hand silently, gesturing for Bridget to hand him the phone.

"What do you want, Sam?" he asked, lifting the phone to his ear. Bridget gave a tiny shake of her head before returning to the kitchen, where she had to still finish her homework. Of course, it wasn't due until the end of the week, so she could put it off for a while more.

Bridget wasn't at all surprised when her father emerged from the bedroom minutes later, still on the phone.

"Something came up, Jill, so I can't work tonight," he was saying. "I'll work a different time but this is really urgent."

As the woman on the other end of the line mentioned something, Dean grabbed the keys to the Impala. Bridget sighed silently at the silent cue. She was on her own for the night and probably for the next few nights.

"What happened?" Dean asked, looking around wildly to find something that was excuse worthy. "Er—"

Bridget mouthed the word 'hospital.' At least that would give her father a plausible excuse.

"Hospital," Dean repeated. "My brother's in the hospital." He affectionately ruffled Bridget's hair. The green-eyed girl made a face and pulled away. A few seconds later Dean hung up the phone and set it on the counter.

"I'm going on a business trip," he informed Bridget. "You know the drill."

"Don't pick up the phone unless it's you calling," Bridget rattled off. "Don't let anyone inside the house, keep the windows and doors salted. There's a gun in the front closet filled with salt rounds, holy water is in the kitchen. There's an iron crowbar in every room along with a silver knife. I know, Dad."

Dean grimaced at her tone.

"I'm just making sure you're safe," he told her. Bridget rolled her eyes.

"I know," she said. "Tell Uncle Sam hi for me."

Dean gave a short nod before opening up the door to the garage.

"Be safe," he warned on the way out. Bridget rolled her eyes again.

"I will be," she promised.

* * *

"So, is everything all right?" Sam asked a few hours later as the brothers poked around an abandoned barn. According to local legend, a woman had hung herself from the rafters and recently three girls had been founding hanging from the rafters as well. It definitely spoke of an angry spirit.

"Why wouldn't it be?" Dean asked, warily raising an eyebrow. Sam shrugged.

"Bridget mentioned that you were working at a bar. I thought you were still working at the auto shop," he replied. "And you look exhausted."

"I picked up a second job," Dean said flatly as he examined the barn for any disturbances. "That's all."

"Really?" Sam asked, shining a flashlight around the room. "I thought you were content at the auto shop. What do you need a second job for?"

"Just saving up money for later," Dean stated carefully. Sam gave his older brother a surprised look.

"Planning ahead?" he asked. "That's not really like you." Dean sent a glare in his brother's direction. A figure flickered into view behind Sam and years of reflex took over. Quickly, Dean pulled up his gun and fired a round of salt. Sam grimaced and flinched to the side as the round rushed past him.

"Found our ghost," Dean said dryly. "Let's find the grave and burn the bones. I want to get home to Bridget. She shouldn't be alone for too long."

An amused expression crossed Sam's face.

"Worried that she'll get in trouble?" he asked. Dean grimaced.

"She already got in trouble," he admitted to the younger Winchester as they left the barn. There was a graveyard not far away and he assumed that the ghost's remains would be in the nearest graveyard. "I found out a couple weeks ago that she's pregnant."

Sam stopped in his tracks and gave his brother a startled look.

"Really?" he asked. Dean nodded.

"Skipped school one day and came home with a bruise on her face," he explained. "The answers came out after that." Dean kicked the ground. "I didn't even know she had a boyfriend until then," he admitted. "What sort of father does that make me?"

"Is she keeping the baby?" Sam asked. Dean nodded.

"Where did I mess up?" he asked his brother suddenly, memories clouding his mind. "I still remember holding her as an infant like it was yesterday. My little—" Dean cut off abruptly. He had been about to say 'my little angel' but then he recalled some of the more _unpleasant_ angels he had met.

Sam smiled to himself. He didn't get many chances to see his brother becoming sentimental like this. As a form began to flicker into view, Sam quickly fired off a round, causing Dean to jump. Dean frowned as he remembered the reason why he had quit being a full-time hunter in the first place.

_A tiny wail echoed through the air. Dean lightly bounced the tiny form in his arms, trying to hush the baby. He had nearly succeeded when the Impala approached with a slight squeal. The gravel crunched underneath its wheels. Sam gave Dean an apologetic look as the squealing started up again._

"_Any sign of Tricia?" Sam asked as he got out of Impala. Dean shook his head. He could see firefighters poking around in the remains of what used to be a two-story house. There had been a slight commotion earlier but he hadn't dared to go any closer to the burnt remains. Not with the baby in his arms._

"_Sir, are you the guardian of the baby?" A police officer finally approached Sam and Dean._

"_Only if her mother can't take care of her anymore," Dean replied bluntly. The officer frowned and nodded, a mournful look crossing his face._

"_We found a body in the house," he informed Dean. "It looks like a woman. One of the firefighters identified her as Tricia Adams."_

_Dean closed his eyes. He had suspected it from the beginning. _

"_I see," he said._

"_What are you going to do?" Sam asked a few minutes later as the policeman walked away. Dean glanced down at the infant girl in his arms._

"_Stop hunting," he decided immediately. "At least, full-time. I'm not going to raise her like Dad raised us."_

Dean shook his head to clear his thoughts. He had done his best but apparently he hadn't been prepared for everything.

"Come on, Sammy," he said. "Let's get this done."


	4. Chapter 4

"Do you mind if I stop in?" Sam asked. Dean gave him a faintly surprised look.

"For dinner?" he asked, taking a quick glance at the clock. Sam nodded.

"I want to talk to Bridget," he explained. Dean rolled his eyes. He already knew what his brother wanted to talk to his daughter about. Sam was probably determined to find out how Bridget was feeling about the whole pregnancy situation and just how well she was handling it.

"All right," he agreed. "Hope you're in the mood for burgers." Sam gave a faint grimace at the thought and Dean's lips quirked up in a tiny smile. Same old Sam.

Less than an hour later, Dean turned onto the small suburban street that he and Bridget lived on. The semi-retired hunter looked around the neighborhood. Something seemed wrong to him. The neighborhood seemed too quiet.

An ungodly loud and shrill screech cut through the air and Dean nearly slammed on the brakes at the suddenness of the sound. Sam looked around, still alert from the hunt they just finished.

"What do you think that was?" he asked. Dean shrugged and his eyes narrowed.

"I don't know," he admitted and started to speed up. He was nearly home and he wanted to make sure Bridget was all right.

As Dean pulled into the driveway, his eyes immediately landed on a woman who was waving her hands wildly and shouting. Bridget stood on the front porch, wide-eyed and her lower lip quivering. Dean was out of the Impala as soon as he put it in park, not bothering to turn off the vehicle.

"What's going on?" he demanded. The shouting woman turned at the sound of his voice and Dean noted with some amusement that the entire front of her shirt was wet. His eyes traveled toward the side of the house, where the hose was dripping. He wouldn't be surprised if this woman had been the source of the ungodly scream when she had been sprayed with the house.

"Is this your daughter?" the woman demanded. Dean gave her a wary look but nodded, crossing his arms.

"Why do you want to know?" he asked. The woman scowled at him.

"She's ruining my son's prospects for the future with her _absurd_ claims that she's pregnant with _his_ child." Dean's eyebrows rose at the malice in her tone.

"Not that absurd, if you ask me," he said. The woman's face twisted in anger.

"My son is a good boy. He would never sleep with the neighborhood harlot." Dean's jaw tightened. "She probably just picked a nice boy to try to ruin his life and get some money."

Sam quickly placed a hand on Dean's shoulder to prevent his older brother from physically lashing out at the woman.

"Don't call my daughter a whore!" Dean snapped.

"Well, what else could she be? Only whores get pregnant at sixteen." Sam's grip tightened on Dean's shoulder.

"Leave," he said coolly. "Otherwise I'll report you from trespassing." It was a weak threat but it did the trick. Within minutes, the woman was getting in her car that she had parked across the street, muttering foul names under her breath. Dean turned to Bridget, only to find that his daughter had fled the porch. From inside the house he could hear a door slam. Dean winced at the sound.

Sam gave his brother a cautious look. He didn't want to leave Dean alone in case his brother decided to go after the woman who had dared to verbally assault Bridget but he felt that he should give the father and daughter some privacy.

"I think I saw a place down the road. I'll pick up some burgers and pie," Sam said though he wasn't sure if Dean had heard him or not. The father had begun making his way toward the house as soon as Sam had released his grip on Dean's shoulder.

Dean fidgeted outside Bridget's room awkwardly, unsure of how to handle the situation. He wasn't father material and he knew that. It had never stopped him from trying his best but Dean knew that there was something lacking in his and Bridget's relationship. He wasn't a sensitive person by nature and it made things difficult when it came to connecting on an emotional level. The only people he had ever connected to before Bridget were Sam, Bobby, and Castiel.

After a few seconds of hesitation, Dean knocked on the plain wooden door.

"Bridget?" he called. There were a few seconds of silence before Bridget replied.

"Yes?"

"Are you okay?" The words sounded strange coming out of Dean's mouth. The father attempted to open the door but found it locked. He wasn't really surprised.

"I just got called a whore," Bridget's voice sounded watery but slightly irritated. "That woman came to our house and called _me_ a whore because _her_ son accidently knocked me up. Of course I'm not okay."

"Open the door," Dean softly demanded. There was no sound of movement but once again, Dean wasn't surprised. It usually took three or four requests before Bridget would open the door.

"I'm the one that's pregnant," he heard Bridget say behind the door. "But I'm ruining _his_ future. _I'm_ a whore because he suggested that we have sex." As Bridget continued to talk, her voice became more and more bitter. "_He _didn't do anything wrong because _he's _a _nice _boy. _I'm_ the one that screwed up."

Something crashed to the floor. From the sound of it, Dean guessed that Bridget had kicked her desk chair, which had tipped over. He stayed silent, waiting for Bridget to go on. When she did, she did so with a loud, frustrated scream.

"I hate this world! It's so fucking sexist!"

"Open the door," Dean requested again. "It'll be okay. We'll get through this. We've been through a lot worse."

"No, _you've_ been through a lot worse. I just stayed home while you were out saving people from monsters. This is the worst thing that's ever happened to me."

"It could have been worse," Dean said, trying to make the situation a bit lighter. "At least you've never started the apocalypse."

"Not funny," Bridget muttered and something soft hit the wooden door. Probably a pillow, Dean assumed as he sighed.

"I'm just saying there's a lot that could be worse than not being careful," he said. "Besides, there's plenty of people who have been successful despite having children at a young age."

The door swung open to reveal Bridget's frustrated face.

"I _was_ careful," she spat. "It's not my fault the condom broke. We used protection!"

Her face disappeared and the door promptly slammed shut again. At the sound of a throat clearing, Dean turned to find Sam, who held up a bag of burgers and a container of pie.

"Bridget," Sam called, thrusting the food into Dean's hands. "There's dinner. And don't be mad at your father. He's trying." Dean scowled. Yeah, he was trying. All he ever did was try.

It never really worked.


	5. Chapter 5

**Many apologies for the delayed update. I've been without internet for most of the time and then when I got the internet back, I've been too exhausted from working 8-12 hour days 7 days a week. Enjoy!**

As always, the next few weeks were tense and awkward in the Winchester household. Bridget didn't want to admit it but the woman's words had affected her badly. She felt that she was nothing more than a slut and a wild teenage girl that had managed to get herself pregnant. It didn't matter what anyone else said. The words had ripped at her heart and her self-esteem.

Dean was at a loss of what to do. There was no manual on how to raise a teenage daughter, let alone a pregnant one. Everything he said seemed to be the wrong thing to say at the wrong time. Bridget had burst into tears at seemingly random times, with no trigger. The hunter felt like he was walking on eggshells whenever he came home.

The only time when both of them felt even remotely at ease was when they weren't around each other. Bridget took every opportunity she could to get out of the house. Like going grocery shopping.

Bridget stared at the aisles of food, unsure of where to start. Everything sounded extremely tasty at the moment.

"Are you looking for something in particular?" Bridget jolted at the sound of a voice behind her. She gave the man that had asked the question a shaky smile.

"Everything?" she said tentatively and her smile grew more sure as the man laughed. Bridget gave the man a quick once over. Shaggy blond hair, a well built body, and not extremely tall. The overall image was that of a decently attractive guy that had probably just turned eighteen or nineteen.

"Do you work here?" Bridget asked, hoping to make small talk. The man shook his head.

"You were just standing there for a while, looking lost and I thought that a gorgeous girl like you shouldn't be all by herself."

While Bridget doubted that she was gorgeous, she couldn't help the blush that crossed her face.

"This might be totally forward of me, but are you doing anything tonight?" Bridget's eyes widened at the suddenness of the question.

"Er—" she said, too stunned to form words. It had been a while since she had been asked out and the other times she had been asked out hadn't been in such a direct manner. Bridget shook her head to clear her thoughts and turned to the young man.

"I'm not doing anything," she said.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dean glanced at the clock as he saw headlights in the driveway. 12:13. Thirteen minutes past curfew. That was the third time this week.

"You're late," he called out as the door opened. Bridget jumped at the sound of his voice.

"You're still up?" she asked, sounding surprised.

"Whether I'm awake or not doesn't change the fact that you're late," Dean said firmly, not allowing the subject to be changed. "Again."

"Sorry," Bridget murmured. "I was just hanging out with some friends."

"Girls or a boy?" Dean asked, eyes narrowing at her sheepish look. At the wide-eyed look, Dean assumed—correctly—that it was a boy.

"A boy? Really?" he asked. Bridget stiffened at her father's tone.

"We were just talking," she protested. "It's not like that's a crime."

"Is this the boy that's been texting you nonstop for the past week or so?" Dean asked. Bridget gave a stiff nod. Dean sighed and attempted to back off. He didn't want to cause a deeper rift in their relationship.

"What's he like?" he asked. Bridget's eyes brightened.

"He's a great guy. He's always complimenting me and taking me to fun places."

"How old is he?" Dean asked. Bridget shrugged.

"Nearly twenty, I think," she said. An alarm began to go off in Dean's head.

"And where has he been taking you?" he asked.

"Just local places," she said. "Mainly Main Street." Otherwise known as the bars, Dean finished in his head. It was written all over Bridget's face.

"And he's never brought you home or wanted to come over here?" he asked.

"He's a college student," Bridget said, starting to become exasperated. "He doesn't live at home anymore. And why would he want to come over here? I thought you wouldn't want me alone with a boy anymore."

"Because staying out past curfew with a boy is so much better," Dean muttered. Bridget's eyes flashed.

"What's your issue?" Bridget demanded. Dean scowled down at his daughter.

"I don't like the sound of that guy," he informed her, crossing his arms. Bridget rolled her eyes.

"He's a nice guy," she informed her dad. Dean didn't believe her.

"I've been called a nice guy, too," he pointed out. "That doesn't mean anything. I don't want you around him, especially if he's bringing you to bars."

Bridget scowled and her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"You can't tell me what to do," she snapped. Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Actually, I can," he said. "You're sixteen and still technically a minor. You shouldn't be around bars in the first place."

Bridget took a deep breath as she processed the subtle threat. If she hadn't, she probably would have screamed in frustration.

"This is a good thing," she informed her father. "He wants to be with me. I can tell with the way he treats me. We could get married and he'd be a good father to the baby."

Dean shook his head in disbelief.

"You're sixteen," he repeated. "You shouldn't be talking about marriage and whether someone will be a good father or not, especially with a guy you've known for just over a week. I won't let this happen."

Bridget let out a huff of frustration.

"I thought you would be happy for me," she practically shouted. "Why are you being so—so—" She couldn't think of the word she needed to finish her sentence.

"Like a father?" Dean suggested. "Because I am a father. Your father. And I won't have you seeing that boy under my roof."

Bridget took another deep breath.

"Fine," she said slowly after a few seconds. "I won't see him while living here. I'll go somewhere else."

Dean's eyes widened but before he could stop his teenage daughter, she was storming off and out of the house. The father winced as he heard the engine of the car. He should have never given Bridget a copy of the car keys. It allowed her too much freedom and an easy way to escape when there was fighting.

After an hour, when Bridget hadn't come back, Dean decided to begin calling around. He started with his daughter's cellphone but as he expected, she didn't answer. Dean called all the bars in town but none of the employees had seen Bridget. Dean called Bridget again and nearly called Sam before hesitating. His brother wouldn't know where Bridget was and Dean really didn't want the lecture Sam would hand out. He also didn't want his brother to know that he was once again failing as a father.

The night passed and Bridget still didn't answer her phone or return to the house. Dean had been calling her every half hour or so, but to no avail.

When Dean had to go in to work, he could barely focus. His mind constantly wandered to thoughts about his daughter. Where was she? Was she with that guy? What if she came home while he was at work? Why wasn't she answering her phone? Was it dead?

The next few days made Dean into a nervous wreck. He had gotten less than five hours of sleep in the past seventy-two hours and it was starting to show. Coffee wasn't doing anything anymore and Dean severely needed some sleep.

Dean had just closed his eyes, prepared to take a nap when he heard the garage door open. His eyes flew open and he was on his feet. He watched silently as Bridget stumbled in, eyes red from crying. Dean's hands tightened into fists as he saw a bruise beginning to form on Bridget's cheek, just under her eye.

"What happened?" he demanded. Bridget let out a loud sniff.

"I thought he was the one," she admitted quietly. "But he found out I was pregnant. He didn't want me anymore after that. He said that I was damaged."


	6. Chapter 6

**I hope you all enjoy!**

Dean's face twisted in anger and his hands clenched into fists.

"He did _what?_" His voice was sharp and loud with restrained anger. Bridget flinched back and took a step away from her father. She knew in the back of her mind that her father would never hurt her but she could never be sure. Not anymore. She had been sure that the last two boys she had been with wouldn't have hurt her but they had.

"He didn't _do_ anything," she muttered, blinking away tears. "He just said some shit, that's all."

"So you just gave yourself that bruise under your eye for the fun of it?" Dean asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms. Bridget could feel the heat rising in her cheeks but refused to respond. Once realizing that he wouldn't get anymore out of his daughter, Dean took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. It didn't work.

"I'll kill him," he muttered a few seconds later. "If that piece of—"

"Dad!" Bridget said sharply, surprised at the blatant threat. "You can't just beat him up!"

Dean glanced at his daughter with fleeting amusement. "I said nothing about beating him up," he said. "I said I'll kill him."

Bridget scowled and, with a surprising amount of strength, shoved her father away from the door.

"No," she said firmly.

"How are you going to stop me?" Dean asked. The two Winchesters' heads turned towards the door upon hearing a knock. Cautiously, Dean opened the door, only for it to reveal Sam standing on the other side.

"Bad time?" Sam asked, upon seeing the expressions on the faces of his brother and niece.

"Make him stop acting like a butthead." Bridget ordered. Sam's face lit up with amusement at her choice of words.

"I think that's a lost cause when it comes to your father," he said and grimaced as Dean punched his shoulder. His brother still hadn't lost any of his strength. "Now what happened to you?"

Bridget raised a hand to cover her eye. "Nothing serious," she said quickly. Dean snorted.

"Some punk kid," he grumbled. "That she thought was a decent choice for a boyfriend." Bridget's face twisted into anger.

"He's a good guy," she protested. "He was just shocked to find out that I was pregnant." Both Dean and Sam scoffed.

"If his first reaction is to punch you, we should reevaluate your criteria for a decent boy," Sam commented carefully. He didn't particularly want to become involved but was already resigned to the fact that he would probably have to. It was just the way the Winchesters were.

Bridget let out a shriek of frustration. "He's a good guy!" she repeated. "I am perfectly capable of choosing guys that are smart, attractive, kind—"

"—and complete dicks," Dean finished. Bridget's eyes flashed dangerously but Dean continued. "No more dating unless I say so."

Bridget's mouth dropped open in surprise. "You can't do that," she protested. "That's not fair."

"Well, I hate to be a cliché, but life isn't fair," Dean responded. "I would have thought that you'd have learned that by now."

Bridget's mouth snapped shut and she glared at her father, crossing her arms.

"I hate you!" she snapped out and stormed off before she could regret her words. Sam looked over at his brother awkwardly, wondering how Dean would react to those words. Bridget was his whole life. Those words would be tearing his brother apart on the inside.

Dean's face was emotionless as he watched his daughter storm off to her room. He turned to face his brother with dull eyes.

"Was there something you wanted?" he asked, only now addressing the fact that Sam had clearly come over for something. His younger brother looked hesitant.

"It can wait," Sam said after a few seconds. "I'll come back later in the week. Are you okay?" Dean blinked and nodded.

"I'll see you later," he said, ushering his brother out the door. He didn't want Sam to see just how much Bridget's words had affected him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Bridget's troubling words were still lingering in Dean's mind as he went to work at the bar the next night. The sixteen-year-old had remained locked in her room for the rest of the night, ignoring Dean's summons for dinner. Her refusal of dinner showed just how angry she was with her father. Bridget, like Dean, rarely skipped meals, knowing how precious food could be.

Dean recognized one of the patrons sitting at the far end of the bar as the prick that had hurt his daughter. Just the sight of him made Dean's teeth grind. Seeing a blonde-haired girl eagerly hooked onto the boy's arm made Dean's teeth grind even harder.

"What can I get for you?" he asked the girl, a plan forming in his mind. The girl ordered a simple cocktail.

"You'll want to watch yourself around him," Dean said to the girl as he began to make the cocktail, just loud enough for the boy to hear. "You might end up getting hurt—and I'm not talking just emotionally."

The girl's eyes widened as she understood the message that Dean was trying to get across. Without another word, she picked up her purse and moved to the other end of the bar.

"Hey! Who do you think you are, making accusations like that?"

"The father of the girl you hit last week." Dean answered bluntly.

"Bridget? You're Bridget's father?" The boy seemed stunned. Dean nodded and leaned across the bar.

"My advice for you, boy, is to leave this town," he hissed, looking straight into the boy's eyes. "Because if you don't, I will make your life hell. Trust me, I've been to hell. It's not somewhere you want to be."

Within a minute, the twenty-year-old was fleeing the bar and Dean had a satisfied smirk on his face as he served the girl her drink. He would protect his daughter as much as possible.


	7. Chapter 7

The sound of screaming wasn't a sound that Dean was accustomed to waking up to anymore. It had been at one point, between the constant hunts, his father's nightmares, Sam's nightmares, and his own, but it wasn't anymore.

Before he was even fully awake and aware of what was going on, Dean was on his feet and racing toward his daughter's room. He would recognize those cries anywhere.

Bridget was thrashing around in her bed but was still asleep. A nightmare, then. Dean was well equipped to deal with those. He only hoped that it was a normal nightmare, not a prophetic one like his brother used to have.

Lightly, the green-eyed father sat on the bed. The small movement he created sent Bridget jolting upright, gasping for air as she looked around wildly. Dean found his arms full of a crying sixteen-year-old as soon as Bridget spotted him sitting beside her. At first, she was unable to form words but as she began to regain her senses, Dean could make out words.

"Everything was s-so hot…" Bridget uttered quietly, still gasping. "There were fl-flames everywhere. It was so hot."

Dean's green eyes furrowed in confusion. Had she been dreaming about a fire.

"—heard screams," Bridget continued. "_Her_ screams. It was so hot."

"Her screams?" Dean asked cautiously. A nightmare about a fire was one thing, but if there was another person in the nightmare…

It was certainly cause for concern.

"I see a woman in my dreams sometimes," Bridget explained. "I can't make out any features but her presence is comforting and she has a nice voice. I think in my dreams, she's my mother."

Dean stiffened but ran a hand up and down Bridget's back in a comforting manner.

A screaming woman. A fire. Bridget's mother.

It couldn't be. How could Bridget remember that? She had been less than a month old when the fire that had killed her mother happened.

Unbidden, the memories began to flood to the forefront of Dean's mind.

"_Hello?" Dean said into the phone, ignoring one of Sam's rants. His brother looked put out at being ignored but cut off in the middle of his lecture about safety. _

"_Hello, Dean," a woman said on the other end. The voice was vaguely familiar but Dean wasn't able to pinpoint it. _

"_Who's this?" he asked warily._

"_Tricia," the woman's voice was short. "I wouldn't expect for you to remember me. After all, the last time we saw each other was nine months ago."_

_A feeling of dread began to form in Dean's gut. Nine months. There was only one situation where that length of time was used that he knew of. _

"_What do you want?" he asked, even more wary._

"_I just want you to come to town for a few days," the woman said. "Just to help me take care of something."_

_Dean didn't like where this was going._

"_Okay," he agreed, mind spinning._

"_It's 1748 South Road, Charlotte Grove, Colorado," Tricia said on the other end, almost as if it was an afterthought. "In case you didn't remember."_

"_1748 South Road, Charlotte Grove, Colorado," Dean repeated. Sam shot his brother a curious look. "I'll see you in a few days." As Dean hung up the phone, Sam ventured a question._

"_Do we have a case?" he asked. Dean shrugged._

"_Of sorts," he replied vaguely. "Get in. We've got some driving to do."_

_Just over twenty-four hours later, Dean turned off the Impala and stared at the plain looking house. It wasn't meant to be terrifying but Dean had learned as a child that the most normal looking objects could house some of the most terrifying things in the world. Any human that walked by was a meat suit for a demon and any house on the street could hide horrors behind four walls. _

"_You okay?" Sam asked. "You look like you're going to your execution." Dean gave his brother a pained smirk._

"_We'll find out," he muttered under his breath before opening the Impala's door. Sam had agreed to remain inside the Impala unless Dean needed help. Before he was even at the front door, a dark-haired woman was opening it and shoving something into his arms._

"_Read the instructions and give it to me once you're done," she said abruptly. "I just want a paternity test done."_

_Ah, now Dean remembered Tricia. Her bluntness and eagerness to get things done quickly was hard to forget once he had a face to put to the voice. _

"_Question," he said once he had provided the DNA samples. "If this comes back positive…"_

"_I don't care what you do or how involved you are," Tricia replied, understanding the unfinished question. "I just want a name to put down in a will so someone will take care of her if I die. My parents are dead and I have no other relatives, so she needs to go to someone and I don't want her to end up in foster care or an orphanage."_

"_Right," Dean said dryly, trying not to linger on the morbid thoughts. If he remembered correctly, Tricia had always been a bit morbid. "Duly noted. Do you want me to hang around until results are back?" Sam wouldn't be happy but Dean would be glad for the slight break between cases. _

"_Do whatever you want," Tricia said, sticking a bottle in the microwave as cries rang down the hallway. "I'll call you with the results. Just don't change your phone number any time soon."_

"_What's the name?" Dean asked as he opened the front door. Sam looked confused at his quick reappearance from his spot in the Impala. _

"_Bridget," Tricia replied. "She was born last week."_

"_Nice name," Dean commented. "Do you want to meet up some time in the next few days? Catch up over a beer?"_

_Tricia gave the hunter an unamused look. "Dean, no offense, but I'm a mother with a week-old baby. That's also how this entire thing started."_

"_So that's a no?" Dean asked. The door slamming shut behind him was his only response._

"_Everything okay?" Sam asked. _

"_Yeah, we just need to hang around for a few more days." Dean replied, not giving anything away via facial expression. _

"_Well, there's a potential hunt—" Sam began but Dean quickly cut him off._

"_No, no hunts," he said quickly. "Let's just take a break for a few days. We've been working nonstop." Sam sighed but didn't protest. He knew that Dean wouldn't budge. Inwardly, he was grateful because the constant run of hunts had left him feeling exhausted. Whenever they thought there was time for a break, another hunt would pop up. Sam couldn't remember the last time they had a few days to relax and unwind. _

_Three days later, Dean received a call from Tricia while eating dinner in their motel room._

"_Hello?" he said._

"_The results were positive so I went ahead and put your name in the will," Tricia said quickly, without bothering with any pleasantries. "The rest is up to you but to be honest, I don't expect anything more."_

_Before Dean could reply, she had hung up. _

"_Fantastic," Dean muttered. Sam gave him a curious look but Dean shook his head. He didn't want to talk about it._

"_Let's leave tomorrow," Dean said a few minutes later. "We're done here. I'm sure there's a hunt somewhere."_

_Sam gave a wry smile. He could name four hunts off the top of his head._

_The next morning, Dean woke up with an uneasy feeling. The air felt off to him, in some manner. It made him anxious and jumpy. As the brothers got into the Impala, Dean decided to drive by Tricia's place one more time. He wanted to say goodbye to his daughter._

_Less than a block away from the house, Sam let out a pained grunt as Dean slammed the brakes on the Impala._

"_Dean?" he asked as he quickly recovered but his brother was already out of the Impala and racing to a house that was enveloped in flames. Sam cursed but unbuckled his seatbelt to follow his brother. Hopefully Dean wouldn't do anything stupid._

_The crackling of flames and creaking of beams about to collapse nearly covered the sound but both of the brothers were able to faintly hear the wails of an infant. Sam cursed as his brother ran even closer to the house, paying no heed to the danger he was placing himself in. Sam could hear the sirens in the distance that signaled approaching fire trucks. It was all he could do to wait patiently outside and pray that his brother re-emerged from the flames. Sam wasn't about to rush after his brother unless he absolutely needed to. _

_Thankfully, he didn't need to. After a long few minutes, Dean stumbled out of the burning house, a small bundle in his arms. Sam breathed a sigh of relief and went to go retrieve the Impala and see if he could go help the newly arrived firefighters. Dean crossed the road to watch the house burn and to reassure his daughter. _

_A tiny wail echoed through the air a few hours later. Dean lightly bounced the tiny form in his arms, trying to hush the baby. He had nearly succeeded when the Impala approached with a slight squeal. The gravel crunched underneath its wheels. Sam gave Dean an apologetic look as the squealing started up again._

_"Any sign of Tricia?" Sam asked as he got out of Impala. Dean shook his head. He could see firefighters poking around in the remains of what used to be a two-story house. There had been a slight commotion earlier but he hadn't dared to go any closer to the burnt remains. Not with the baby in his arms._

_"Sir, are you the guardian of the baby?" A police officer finally approached Sam and Dean._

_"Only if her mother can't take care of her anymore," Dean replied bluntly. The officer frowned and nodded, a mournful look crossing his face._

_"We found a body in the house," he informed Dean. "It looks like a woman. One of the firefighters identified her as Tricia Adams."_

_Dean closed his eyes. He had suspected it from the beginning._

_"I see," he said._

_"What are you going to do?" Sam asked a few minutes later as the policeman walked away. Dean glanced down at the infant girl in his arms._

_"Stop hunting," he decided immediately. "At least, full-time. I'm not going to raise her like Dad raised us."_

"Daddy?" Bridget's quiet voice drew Dean out of his memories.

"What is it?" he asked, blinking away the images.

"You'll always be there to protect me, right?" Dean's throat tightened at the innocent question but his answer was immediate.

"Of course."


	8. Chapter 8

**Enjoy**!

Dean cursed as he stumbled out of the Impala, hand slipping on some blood as he tried to shut the car door quietly. On the other side of the garage, Sam was trying to stand up straight but failing. Dean could only hope that they would enter the house quietly enough not to disturb Bridget.

His hope was futile because the door to the house opened before Dean could even walk up the two or three steps to the door.

Bridget looked furious. Her green eyes glittered dangerously and her hands were propped on her hips in a disapproving manner. The baby bump she had was made even more apparent with her posture.

"What did you do?" Bridget asked in a shrill voice, taking note of all the blood. Dean rubbed his eyes, exhausted.

"There was a wendigo on the other side of the state," he said. "We went to go take care of it."

"You disappeared for two days!" Bridget scolded. "The owner of the bar called, wondering where you were. I had to tell him you were sick."

"We're back now," Dean said, trying to get through the door but Bridget wouldn't let him.

"Yeah, _now_," she snapped. "Of course, how was I supposed to know that? I had no idea where you went, how long you were going to be gone, or if you were even coming back."

Dean winced at the harshness of the tone in his daughter's voice and couldn't help but feel guilty.

"I've gone out on hunts before," he pointed out, trying to gently move his daughter aside so he could get into the house but the teenager wouldn't budge. Sam was resting against the car, watching the scene and trying to slow some of his bleeding.

"You've never gotten hurt this badly," Bridget admonished. "What if you had gotten killed?"

"We didn't, though," Dean said.

"But if you had, I would have nowhere to go!" Bridget said. "No place to stay, no other family to live with. I would be sent to foster care or a group home until I turned eighteen and they would most likely take my baby away!"

As his daughter continued to rant, Dean's guilt deepened. He had never really thought of it that way. He just got restless working at the garage and at the bar and whenever Sam mentioned a hunt, Dean's automatic response was to say yes. He and his brother had been fortunate and lucky enough in their hunts before that Dean hadn't thought of what would happen should both of them permanently die. As Dean considered this, he tuned back into Bridget's rant.

"—I already lost my mother in a fire. Do you want me to become like you and lose my father to a hunting accident as well?"

Even Sam cringed at that. Bridget was definitely going for the full guilt trip and Dean was falling for it, just like Sam knew he would.

"Would it make you feel better if we promise not to go looking for hunts?" Dean asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest and trying not to show how painful the movement was.

A small smirk crossed Bridget's lip as she finally realized how desperate her father was to get in the house and patch himself up, followed by some much needed sleep.

"Promise me you won't go hunting for the rest of my pregnancy and I'll even let you in the house," she bargained, knowing that was the only way her mind was going to be put to rest. She knew her father well and knew that he wouldn't easily break a promise to her.

"All right," Dean agreed readily. Sam stumbled around the Impala and toward the door as Bridget stepped aside to let her father and uncle into the house.

"What were you doing up so late, anyway?" Sam asked as Dean went to get the first aid kit. Bridget sat gingerly on the couch, trying to get comfortable.

"I couldn't sleep knowing that you and Dad were somewhere out there," she admitted. "I didn't know if you were alive or hurt or dead. So I decided to look at homeschooling and online schooling programs while I waited for you two to hopefully come home."

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Why were you looking at those?" he asked. Bridget's hands smoothed over her belly in nervousness.

"People at school are starting to suspect and spread rumors," she admitted. "So far I've been able to hide them by wearing large sweatshirts and by skipping gym class until it ended." Bridget ignored Sam's face when he heard that she had been skipping classes. "I don't want that kind of attention, so I figured it would be better if I did my schooling on the internet or at home."

Sam frowned. He didn't really like the thought of what his niece was proposing. He knew all too well that Bridget would most likely procrastinate on her work with no teachers to demand anything from her. Dean, having overheard what his daughter was saying, sighed. He didn't want to deal with this now. He was too exhausted at this point.

Sam and Bridget could fight it out between themselves.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Sam said. Bridget's eyes narrowed.

"Why not?" she asked sharply. "I'd be able to do it."

"You shouldn't drop out of school," Sam insisted. "Education is important."

"I'm not dropping out," Bridget informed her uncle. "Homeschooling isn't dropping out."

"Where are you going to find teachers for homeschooling?" Sam inquired. "Your father certainly doesn't have the time."

"There's programs in the area," Bridget said. "The library also holds classes sometimes."

"But will you really have the motivation to go?" Sam asked. Bridget scowled.

"What are you implying?" she asked sharply. Sam raised his hands in defense.

"I'm just saying that you don't exactly have the best track record so far with passing classes and having perfect attendance," he pointed out. "Once the baby is born and you're constantly exhausted, you won't exactly have the motivation to go to classes or to do your work."

Bridget huffed in frustration.

"So you want me to suffer the constant humiliation from my classmates of being that girl who got knocked up in high school?" she asked in horror.

"I just don't want you to become one of those teenage high school drop-outs!" Sam said in exasperation.

"I won't be!" Bridget cried. "Why don't you have any faith in me?"

"I'm just trying to look out for you," Sam claimed. Bridget's green eyes glared at him.

"Well you don't get to tell me what I can and can't do," she said. "You're not my father."

"So I can't tell you what's in your best interest?" Sam asked incredulous at how thickheaded Bridget was being. It was like dealing with Dean. Bridget said nothing, choosing instead to storm off. Unless her father said something, she would be going through with her plan and there was nothing her uncle could say about it.

**Two more chapters left! So exciting!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Enjoy!**

The next few months were awkward for the tiny, dysfunctional Winchester family. The air had never officially been cleared between Bridget and Sam, so their interactions with each other were always filled with tension. Sam was frustrated with Dean, who had allowed Bridget to drop out of high school and start an online schooling program instead. Dean, in return, was irritated with his younger brother because he had tried to talk Bridget out of her plans. He had really tried. Bridget had just inherited the Winchester stubbornness and refused to go down with a fight. Like any Winchester, she had come out victorious. Dean was sure to be annoyed with his daughter or to admire her Winchester traits.

However, to Sam's surprise, Bridget was actually doing fairly well with her online schooling. She had turned in all assignments on time and seemed to be enjoying her classes. Her decision, in the end, seemed to have been the best decision as she could stay at home and relax while doing schoolwork compared to being at school under the watchful (and often disdainful) eyes of teachers and classmates.

Before Bridget knew it, she was two weeks away from her due date. Surprisingly, the pregnancy had gone smoothly, according to her doctor and the people at Planned Parenthood. The morning sickness had been minimal and the cravings had been ridiculous at times. Dean still couldn't believe that Bridget had demanded Nutella and pickles as a midnight snack one night. That was almost as disgusting as seeing her spread peanut butter on the bun of her double bacon cheeseburger with fried onions. The aches and pains and the increased trips to the bathroom Bridget suffered were completely normal according to the Internet and her doctor.

Now all that was left was actually giving birth. To be honest, Bridget wasn't looking forward to the idea of going through labor, given everything that she had heard and seen in films.

Bridget had decided to leave the gender of the baby a surprise, so any baby shopping her and her father had done (usually at garage sales) were a mixture of pinks and blues. Bridget honestly didn't care if the clothes her child was wearing corresponded to the gender stereotype. It was a ridiculous concept to her. Clothes were clothes and children could wear any colors they wanted.

It seemed like a normal day. Bridget was working on a science assignment and her father was taking a nap before he left for his second job. Neither of them was expecting a visitor but when Bridget heard a knock on the door, she assumed that it was one of those door-to-door salesmen. With some difficulty, she got to her feet and headed for the door to reveal a woman.

The woman looked slightly surprised to see her.

"Now who are you?" she asked Bridget. "I wasn't told about a girl, let alone a pregnant one. Are you related to Winchester?"

Bridget's arms curled around her stomach as a feeling of apprehension came over her.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" she asked, preparing to slam the door shut. The woman took a close glance at the sixteen-year-old girl.

"Definitely Winchester eyes," she muttered before answering Bridget's question. "I'm an old friend of your father." As the woman's eyes became completely black, Bridget let out a startled scream and attempted to close the door. Before she could completely close it, though, she was flying backwards through the air.

Dean jolted awake at the sound of a scream and a loud crash. Before he was even on his feet, he was reaching under his pillow and pulling out Ruby's old knife. If there was trouble, he was automatically going to assume a demon was behind it.

"Bridget!" he called out as he carefully stepped through the house. As he stepped into the front room, he was even more on alert as he saw Bridget struggling to get up. She had been thrown all the way across the room.

"Hello Dean," a feminine voice said from the doorway. "So nice to see you again. I've already met…Bridget was it?"

Bridget turned her head to look at her father but as she finally made it to her feet, she found herself flying through the air once again. As she hit the wall and slumped to the floor, she curled around her large stomach, trying to protect her unborn child.

"Sorry, I don't remember you," Dean informed the demon, changing his grip on the knife so he could attack with it.

"We have some old business to settle," the demon said. "Of course now that I've met Bridget here, I think I'll settle for killing her instead of you. You'll suffer more that way."

Dean gritted his teeth at the threat and purposefully stepped between his daughter and the demon.

"Over my dead body," he growled and lunged for the demon. There was a Devil's Trap on the ceiling of the kitchen, just a few yards away. If Dean could back the demon into there, it would be an easy exorcism or kill. Judging by the way the demon had threatened Bridget, it would most likely be a kill.

Obviously this demon wasn't one of the brighter ones. It was all too easy to force the demon into the Devil's Trap. Once Dean started to attack with the knife, the demon was more preoccupied with defending itself than to pay attention to where it was going.

If Dean hadn't been so angered that his baby girl had been threatened, he may have even been amused at the demon's expression when it realized it was stuck in a Devil's Trap.

In a brief moment of mercy, Dean began to recite an exorcism.

"_Exorcizamus te omnis immundus spiritus_

_Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio_

_Infernalis adversarii omnis legio_

_Omnis congregatio et secta diabolica_

_Ergo draco maledicte_

_Et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te…"_

It was almost a testimony to Dean's previous life as a hunter how he could recite the words from memory. As he continued to recite the exorcism, he ignored the demon's murderous screeches of rage. Within minutes, he was finishing.

"_Cessa decipere humanas creaturas_

_Eisque aeternae perditionis venenum propinare_

_Ut ecclesian uam secura tibi facias libertate servire_

_Te rogamus, audi nos."_

"Daddy?" Upon finishing the exorcism, Dean was finally able to hear his daughter's pleading tone. She was still curled up on the floor but the area around her was damp.

"You okay?" Dean asked, leaning to check on her. Bridget shook her head and winced in pain as what seemed to be a contraction overcame her.

"I think my water just broke," she told her father.


	10. Chapter 10

**Here we go. Last chapter! Enjoy!**

As Dean scooped his daughter off the floor, trying not to think about how heavy she was, he tried to think of what he needed to do. Call Sam, drive to the hospital, and…his eyebrows rose. Apparently that was it.

With the demon's shell collapsed unconscious on the kitchen floor, Dean stood Bridget gingerly on her feet so she could lean against the counter. From his bedroom, Dean fetched his cellphone and his keys so they could begin the journey to the hospital. When he returned to the kitchen, Bridget was breathing heavily and mentally preparing for her next contraction. She wasn't exactly sure how far apart her contractions were but they didn't seem extremely close together yet. Hopefully the baby would wait until she had reached the hospital before being born.

"Once we get into the car, call your uncle," Dean ordered as he guided Bridget from the house. Bridget spared one last glance at the unconscious woman on the kitchen floor.

"What about her?" she asked. Dean barely spared a glance at the limp body.

"Hopefully she'll wake up and leave," he said. "But when you call your uncle, you might want to tell him about her so he can take care of the situation."

Bridget nodded and Dean opened up the passenger door for her. Thankfully the seat was pushed all the way back from when Sam had last sat in it. It made for an easy entry for Bridget and her large belly.

As Dean backed out of the driveway, Bridget opened Dean's cellphone. There was a missed call from Sam from earlier that afternoon, so she hit the call button.

"Finally!" Sam said as he picked up the phone,

"Hi," Bridget said quietly. For a few seconds, there was no reply.

"What's up?" Sam finally said. "I called your father earlier."

"I know," Bridget said. "He was sleeping and now we're on our way to the hospital."

"Is everyone okay?" Sam's voice sounded panic.

"A demon visited us," Bridget informed her uncle, slightly stunned by how calm she sounded. "Dad wanted me to tell you that the woman it was possessing is on our kitchen floor." Bridget could hear a curse from the other end of a phone.

"Was anyone hurt?" Sam asked quickly. His voice sounded distant and there was the sound of movement, like he was trying to find something.

"I was knocked around a bit, which I think forced me into labor. That's why we're going to the hospital." The movement on the other end of the phone stilled.

"You went into labor?" Sam's voice sounded stunned.

"Yep, so once you take care of the woman, you should meet us at the hospital so you can meet your great-niece or nephew," Bridget said before abruptly hanging up the phone. The phone dropped to the floor as another contraction swept over her. This one was stronger than the previous ones.

"How much longer?" she asked in a pained voice. Dean glanced over at her.

"About twenty minutes. Think you'll last that long?" Bridget nodded but tightened her grip on the handle of the door. Dean pressed down on the gas to make the vehicle go faster.

Upon reaching the hospital, Dean parked the Impala in the first spot that he could find. Bridget had barely opened her door before her father was helping her out. The sixteen-year-old waddled toward the hospital entrance, clenching her father's hand. Dean's eyes tightened in pain as her grip strengthened as another contraction hit.

The receptionist was getting to her feet as the father and daughter made their way through the hospital doors. She was already signaling for a wheelchair to be brought over.

"I'm assuming you're in labor?" she asked as Bridget practically collapsed in her chair.

"Bridget Winchester, and I'm two weeks early," she informed the receptionist, who nodded.

"Henry will get you situated in a room while I pull up your information," she said. "And someone will need to fill out some paperwork while you're waiting for a doctor." Bridget gave Dean a pleading glance. Dean sighed and nodded. He would fill out the necessary paperwork.

"Is anyone allowed in the room with her?" he asked as Bridget was taken away.

"One relative is," the receptionist responded. "If you want, I'll direct you to her room once you're done out here. You're Bridget's father?"

Dean nodded absently.

"How long will we be waiting?" he asked. The receptionist shrugged.

"It really depends on the woman," she said. "It can take less than two hours or as long as a few days. It depends on how fast she dilates. How fast were the contractions coming?"

Dean didn't know the answer.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe fifteen to twenty minutes? We weren't really paying attention. Neither of us have really done this before."

The receptionist raised an eyebrow in slight confusion but directed Dean to the next place he needed to sign.

Ten minutes later, Dean was by his daughter's side. Within the hour, Sam had arrived but was forced to wait in the waiting room. In normal circumstances, Dean would be between the two rooms, updating Sam and making sure Bridget was comfortable, but with the demon attack earlier, Dean wasn't about to leave his daughter's side.

Eleven hours later, Dean was looking away as the baby began to crown. He thought his hand was going to be permanently purple, judging by how hard Bridget had squeezed it throughout the eleven hours.

"Nearly there," a nurse encouraged. Bridget groaned and her grip tightened on Dean's hand once again. With some help from the nurses, the baby was pushed out and small cries filled the hospital room. Dean ventured a glance at the infant, only to see it covered in red. He quickly glanced away. Bridget breathed a sigh of relief as she heard the cries.

"Seven pounds, five ounces, and fifteen inches," the nurse announced. "A baby girl. Perfectly healthy for someone who was born two weeks early."

Her announcement made tears start to well up in Bridget's eyes. She had given birth to a perfect baby girl.

Within a few minutes, the sixteen-year-old was sitting up and cradling her baby. Dean finally had the courage to take a second glance. When he did, his heart melted at the sight. A tiny little pink face was scrunched up as if the lights were too bright. Bridget was glancing down at the baby, smiling softly.

As if sensing Dean's gaze on the pair, Bridget looked up.

"Do you want to hold her?" she asked. Throat suddenly tight, Dean nodded and Bridget carefully passed the newborn infant over. Dean cradled the tiny body gently.

"What are you going to name her?" a nurse asked. Bridget thought for a minute. She had picked out one or two baby names for each gender.

"Abigail," she announced. Dean lifted the newly named Abigail up closer to his face.

"Hi Abigail," he whispered, looking down at his first granddaughter. Bridget beamed at the sight of her father holding her daughter. It wasn't a vision she had expected to see for a few years yet but somehow this seemed right. Bridget knew that her father had never expected children, let alone grandchildren. She was glad to give him something he had never even dreamed of.

"Is there any family waiting outside?" a nurse asked, after making sure everything was in order for the next few hours. "I can go fetch them if you would like."

Bridget and Dean nodded in unison. They couldn't let Sam miss out on this.

"His name's Sam Winchester," Dean informed the blonde-haired nurse, not taking his eyes off his little Abigail. "Tall guy. Can't miss him."

The nurse smiled and nodded before leaving Dean and Bridget to celebrate the new addition to the family. She immediately made her way to the waiting room.

"Sam Winchester?" she called out. Sam lurched to his feet, looking nervous. The nurse smiled to reassure him.

"Everything's all right. You can go in now. Room three hundred and two," she said. "I'll be by in a bit to see how everyone is doing." Sam nodded, not quite believing that this had actually happened. Stumbling slightly, he made his way down the hall to the appropriate room number. Taking a deep breath, he knocked lightly on the door to announce his presence.

"Come in," he heard Bridget called. She sounded like she normally did, just a little tired. Sam couldn't blame her. It had been a long day.

"Hey," he said, ambling into the room. Dean held up Abigail to show his brother and Sam smiled at the small bundle wrapped in pink blankets.

"Her name's Abigail," Bridget said cheerfully and hiding a yawn behind her hand. "According to the doctors and nurses, she's fifteen inches and seven pounds, five ounces and absolutely healthy."

"Congratulations," Sam said, taking a seat in the chair next to the hospital bed.

"Do you want to hold her?" Bridget asked. Sam nodded. It wasn't everyday that he got to hold his great-niece for the first time. Carefully, Dean passed Abigail over to Sam, who cradled the small bundle in his large arms. The sight of Sam, one of the largest people Bridget knew, holding Abigail was a bit on the amusing side. Abigail's fists waved slightly in the air.

"What do you think?" Bridget asked eagerly, already proud of her newborn daughter. Sam smiled gently.

"She's absolutely precious," he informed his niece, rocking Abigail slightly. The newborn was quickly falling asleep, completely safe and comfortable in her pink blanket and her great-uncle's arms.

"Do you think she's ready for our dysfunctional family?" Bridget asked with a smile. The Winchester brothers traded a look. Sam nodded and Dean grinned widely. Dysfunctional was one way to label the Winchester family. Abigail didn't know what awaited her.

"Abigail Winchester," he chuckled lightly. "Welcome to the world. You'll definitely get a view of it that not many others get."

**I really hope everyone enjoyed this. There's a sequel being planned for the near future but I'm trying to finish another story or two first before I start to write it. So...keep an eye out!**


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